Give him the veil, that he may cover
The red cheeks of a rivall'd lover;
Ashamed that our world now can show
Nests of new seraphim here below.
Give her the dart, for it is she
(Fair youth) shoots both thy shaft and thee;
Say, all ye wise and well-pierced hearts
That live and die amidst her darts,
What is't your tasteful spirits do prove
In that rare life of her, and Love?
Say, and bear witness. Sends she not
A seraphim at every shot?
What magazines of immortal arms there shine!
Heaven's great artillery in each love-spun line.
Give then the dart to her who gives the flame ;
Give him the veil, who gives the shame.
But if it be the frequent fate
Of worse faults to be fortunate;
If all's prescription; and proud wrong
Hearkens not to an humble song;
For all the gallantry of him,
Give me the suffering seraphim.
His be the bravery of all those bright things, The glowing cheeks, the glistering wings; The rosy hand, the radiant dart;
Leave her alone the flaming heart.
Leave her that; and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft, but Love's whole quiver; For in Love's field was never found
A nobler weapon than a wound.
Love's passives are his activ'st part:
The wounded is the wounding heart.
O heart! the equal poise of Love's both parts,
Big alike with wound and darts,
Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same; And walk through all tongues one triumphant flame.
Live here, great heart; and love, and die, and kill; And bleed, and wound; and yield and conquer still.
Let this immortal life where'er it comes
Walk in a crowd of loves and martyrdoms.
Let mystic deaths wait on't; and wise souls be
The love-slain witnesses of this life of thee.
O sweet incendiary! show here thy art,
Upon this carcass of a hard cold heart;
Let all thy scatter'd shafts of light that play
Among the leaves of thy large books of day,
Combined against this breast at once break in
And take away from me myself and sin;
This gracious robbery shall thy bounty be,
And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me.
O thou undaunted daughter of desires!
By all thy dower of lights and fires;
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
By thy large draughts of intellectual day,
And by thy thirsts of love more large than they;
By all thy brim-fill'd bowls of fierce desire,
By thy last morning's draught of liquid fire;
By the full kingdom of that final kiss
That seized thy parting soul, and seal'd thee His;
By all the Heaven thou hast in Him
(Fair sister of the seraphim!)
By all of Him we have in thee;
Leave nothing of myself in me.
Let me so read thy life, that I
Unto all life of mine may die.
A SONG OF DIVINE LOVE
LORD, when the sense of Thy sweet grace
Sends up my soul to seek Thy face,
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,
I die in Love's delicious fire.
O Love, I am thy sacrifice;
Be still triumphant, blessed eyes;
Still shine on me, fair suns, that I
Still may behold, though still I die.
Though still I die, I live again;
Still longing so to be still slain;
So gainful is such loss of breath;
I die even in desire of death.
Still live in me this loving strife
Of living death and dying life;
For while Thou sweetly slayest me
Dead to myself, I live in Thee.
IN THE GLORIOUS ASSUMPTION OF OUR BLESSED LADY
HARK! she is call'd, the parting hour is come; Take thy farewell, poor World, Heaven
A piece of heavenly earth, purer and brighter Than the chaste stars whose choice lamps come to light her,
Whilst through the crystal orbs clearer than they She climbs, and makes a far more Milky Way.
She's call'd! Hark, how the dear immortal Dove
Sighs to His silver mate: "Rise up, my love!"
Rise up, my fair, my spotless one,
The Winter's past, the rain is gone,
The Spring is come, the flowers appear,
No sweets (save thou) are wanting here.
Come away, my love,
Come away, my dove,
Cast off delay;
The court of Heaven is come
To wait upon thee home;
Come, come away.
Or quickly would, wert thou once here.
The Spring is come, or if it stay
'Tis to keep time with thy delay.
The rain is gone, except so much as we,
Detain in needful tears to weep the want of thee.
The Winter's past,
Or if he make less haste
His answer is why she does so,
If Summer come not, how can Winter go?
Come away, come away!
The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay;
The fountains murmur, and each loftiest tree
Bows lowest his leafy top, to look for thee.
Come away, my love,
Come away, my dove, etc.
She's call'd again. And will she go?
When Heaven bids come, who can say no?
Heaven calls her, and she must away,
Heaven will not, and she cannot, stay.
Go then, go glorious on the golden wings
Of the bright youth of Heaven, that sings
Under so sweet a burthen. Go,
Since thy dread Son will have it so :
And while thou go'st, our song and we
Will, as we may, reach after thee.
Hail, Holy Queen of humble hearts,
We in thy praise will have our parts.
And though thy dearest looks must now give light
To none but the blest heavens, whose bright
Beholders, lost in sweet delight,
Feed for ever their fair sight
With those divinest eyes,
And our dark world no more shall see ;
Though our poor eyes are parted so,
Yet shall our lips never let
Thy gracious Name, but to the last,
Our loving song shall hold it fast.
Thy precious Name shall be
Thyself to us; and we
With holy care will keep it by us,
We to the last
And no Assumption shall deny us.
All the sweetest showers
Of our fairest flowers
Will we strow upon it.
Though our sweets cannot make
It sweeter, they can take
Themselves new sweetness from it.
Maria, men and angels sing,
Maria, Mother of our King.
Live, rosy Princess, live, and may the bright
Crown of a most incomparable light
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